Second Chance
by J U 1ce
Summary: Oliver Wood, Quiddich Now's Keeper of the Year, has lost interest in pro Quiddich. So he and former Captains Flint and Davis accept an invitation to go back to Hogwarts. It's great, really, but there's always dessert after the main course...
1. Davis's Call

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING!**

**SECOND CHANCE**

**CHAPTER 1: DAVIS'S CALL**

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**

"Wood, please! We can work something out!"

Oliver Wood, reserve Keeper for the Quiddich team of Puddlemere United, bolted from the Lost Angeles office of his agent, Jake Moore.

"Like bloody hell!" the native Scotsman spat, throwing the frightened front desk receptionist a dirty look. Reaching the spinning-door, the twenty-year-old Keeper spun around, facing his agent.

"You can tell of Puddlemere United to stick that extension up their arse," seethed Woods who, to his knowledge, had never been this angry in his entire life. "I'm through with 'em!"

Seeing as how his client was an unrestricted free agent and was not breaching his contract, Moore could only watch helplessly as Wood exited the building.

"How could they do this to me?" Wood demanded to no one in particular. It was illogical, insulting in the highest degree. He, Oliver Wood, youngest Keeper to play for a pro Quiddich club, ranked third in _Quiddich Now_'s **Top Ten Keepers of the Century** in his second year as a professional and voted **Hottest Quiddich Player of the Year** twice by _Witch Weekly_. It doesn't take a genius to add it up: mad talent plus good looks equal a very marketable athlete, which, in turn, lead to riches and popularity to both the aforementioned athlete and his team.

Oliver Wood was no genius, but he knew better than to sign such a degrading extension. Not including the fact that the coach wanted to bench him, the team Captain, but to offer a contract that was barely higher than the minimum pay for a professional Keeper to a Keeper that ranked third Greatest Keeper of the Century and first in the current league…

By the time Wood closed the door to his apartment complex, it was already a quarter past nine. Upon stumbling into the living room, the star Keeper collapsed onto his sofa. It was downer days like these that stained his upbeat life.

'I can't deal with those gits,' thought Wood, his face buried in the maroon-colored cushion. He pushed himself into an upright position. Coincidentally, or through Divine intervention, the thought irrelevant at this point, Wood found himself face to face with the framed picture of the House Quiddich Finals in his seventh year. He'd looked so happy, smiling from ear to ear without a care in the world. The Oliver in the picture had his arms around an equally ecstatic Katie Bell.

'_Katie…why is it that I think of you so?'_

With that final thought, Oliver Wood drifted to sleep, dreaming of a certain Chaser of his.

The next few days were hectic, to say the least. The news that Oliver Wood had refused to sign with of Puddlemere United traveled like wildfire. The result? Lunch dates with team reps every day for the next two weeks, fan girls at every restaurant, gym, bookstore, sweets shop, shoe store, movie theater, any place in the city, pleading for photos, autographs, photo autographs, and reporters at every corner asking the same question, "What team are you signing with?"

All this, in a city occupied mostly by Muggle.

Wood shuddered at the thought of returning to London, the most magic populated city in the world.

Wood sat at the classy café, his eyes glazed. This team rep was especially conversational, covering the advantages of joining her team, the role he would play, and occasionally throwing in sexual innuendos.

'Where's that damn waiter with the check?' Wood thought, groaning inwardly as the rep of the Paris Perroquet, Joan, started blabbering about the nearby attractions.

"Nightcluubz," she said huskily. "Of course tu an inturnashinul zelebrity like yoo, zis ez a necessity. I will gladly zhow yoo around, monsieur."

"I'm not a big fan of 'em," Woods replied gruffly, hoping Joan can take a hint. He was wrong.

"Yoo luuk zike a beech kind ze guy. I can get in tooch with a good freund of mein, a zeal eztate azunt. She could zhow yoo some manshunz along ze sea brim.

'Like hell, you insufferable – yes! The check!' Woods cheered mentally.

"I'll get it," he said quickly, cutting Joan off as he handed his credit card to the waiter.

"Ez luunch over already?" Joan asked ditzily. (A/N: Derived from the noun, ditz. Not a real word.)

'Of course it's over!' Wood screamed mentally. 'It's already 5:00!'

"I would love to stay and chat," lied Wood, a fake and painfully executed smile etched on his face, "but I have business to attend elsewhere."

"I'll bee in tooch, monsieur Wood," Joan crooned, blowing him a kiss goodbye.

"Thank Merlin that's over," breathed Wood. He was in the safety of his Mercedes S600.

Oliver had never taken Muggle Studies at Hogwarts and regretted not doing so. Though he preferred the wizard lifestyle to the Muggle's, there were some liberties that he thoroughly enjoyed. Liberties like his luxury sedan. It was not that he couldn't Apparate; he just found driving a more enjoyable and smoother ride.

About seven minutes into the ride, Wood's cellular phone started ringing. It was another Muggle device that Wood has grown accustomed to using. It just seemed so much more convenient than owl post. He switched the answer option to speakerphone, deciding against answering the call manually. It was already bad enough that he was being tailed by every black and white Crown Victoria within a three-block radius that were just waiting for him to exceed the speed limit, run a red light, or fail to wait three seconds at every stop sign, but to be caught with a cell phone in his hand? He might as well burn the ol' red, white, and blue, don a Klansman uniform, and chant, "Hail Hitler." That way, the judge won't give him that incredulous, Mister-Hollywood-can't-you-find-some-other-way-to-feel-important- than-by-talking-on-a-cell-phone look.

"Hello?" answered Oliver, checking his rear view mirror for any sign of a Crown Victoria.

"Woody, that you, mate?" came the voice of Roger Davis, a Hogwarts graduate and member of the Ballycastle Bats.

"Davis. What's up?" Wood had nothing against Davis. He respected him as both a friend and an opponent.

"Hold on. Let me three-way Flintstone."

Oliver heard another 'beep' before hearing the former Slyterin's voice.

"Wood, Davis," said Marcus Flint, a member of the Falmouth Falcons.

Oliver Wood and Marcus Flint went back a long way. They were – unbeknownst of everyone outside their circle – very good friends. They battled on the Quiddich pitch like sworn enemies, but once the equipments were off, they were friends again. Their relationship could be compared to that of Larry Bird and Magic Johnson, who were professional athletes of a Muggle sport that involved an orange-colored ball and a hoop with a net.

"Okay, Davis, why did you call us?" growled Flint, who sounded like he just got up.

Oliver was curious as well.

"Well, being the pompous celebrities you two are, you've probably haven't checked your mailbox in a while."

"Hey, if anyone's pompous, it's got to be –" Oliver stopped mid sentence, cursing himself out. He had totally forgotten about their fallen friend, Cedric Diggory.

The three-way conversation came to a complete standstill. On the other line, he could hear one of his two friends muttering under his breath and the other breathing heavily.

"He was a good bloke," said Davis, finally breaking the silence. "But he wouldn't have wanted us to be uncomfortable talking about him. Now, where was I?"

"At the point where you're bitchin' about not getting any quality time on the field…" offered Flint.

"–Or in the bedroom," added Wood in an undertone.

"Hark who's talking. I don't remember Slytherin winning the Cup when you were Captain," defended Davis, choosing not to respond to Wood's comment.

"Don't be mad at us because you suck," sneered Flint, causing Oliver to laugh on the other line. Davis growled, but decided against arguing.

"Anyway, being the upstanding, not to mention attractive (at this, Oliver rolled his eyes) bloke that I am, I've taken it upon myself to tell you two that we've been offered jobs at Hogwarts."

"WHAT!" Wood's S600 came to a screeching halt before a busy intersection. He'd not been paying attention to the road and noticed the traffic light had turned red at the last second.

"Yeah. Some undergraduate training program," said Davis from the other line. "Kind of like a second chance to go to Hogwarts, you know? They chose me to be a private tutor."

"Merlin have mercy on whomsoever has you as a tutor," Flint muttered.

"So how about you, Wood?" Davis asked, completely ignoring the former Slytherin Quiddich Captain. "Interested?"

"You know," said Oliver. "This might be the most bloodiest brilliant idea you've ever had!"

"Wood, are you high on pixie dust or something?"

"You're a free agent too. Think about it, Marcus," said Oliver. "A chance to get away from the bloody media. Honestly," he added, chuckling. "I'm sure even you, the whore of publicity that you are, didn't enjoyed being criticized by _Witch Weekly _because of your mustache. Plus, in shifty times like these, the safest place to be is at Hogwarts."

Oliver could mentally picture a sullen faced Flint.

"You're right, Wood," he admitted. "But what's wrong with my mustache?"

"Now that that's settled," Davis continued, ignoring Flint's question, "you two should get goin'. Oh, and don't worry," he added. "I've already signed you both up." Davis hung up before hearing the string of curses from the other two lines.

"Git," muttered Flint.

"Could be interesting," said Wood, "Hogwarts, you know."

Flint hung up, still swearing under his breath.


	2. The New Hogwarts

**DISCLAIMER: I STILL OWN NOTHING!**

**SECOND CHANCE**

**CHAPTER 2: THE NEW HOGWARTS **

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The next two weeks flew past and Oliver found himself on the platform for the Hogwarts Express. It was the same scene as he'd remembered: hundreds of young witches and wizards piling their luggage onto the train, incoming first-years trying to pry themselves from their mothers, friends hugging after not seeing one another for three months…

He missed the feeling of his throat lumping as he saw his Quiddich team, of his heart swelling as Bell embraced him, and of his mind spinning as he imagined the Quiddich Cup in his hands.

Smiling reminiscently, the pro Keeper stepped onto the Hogwarts Express. Upon entering, the noise died down completely. He cursed his luck; he had just entered the compartment of the frivolous third-years that had stalked him as a seventh-year.

"**OLLIE! HE'S BACK!"**

Ducking from their grasps, he ran to the next compartment and found the Weasley twins and Lee Jordan huddled in the group, discussing the latest line of merchandise for their joke shop. One of the twins, Oliver could not tell, noticed him.

"Oi! It's Ollie!"

"Fred, George, Lee," Wood nodded in acknowledgment. "You three back too?"

"McGonagall invited Lee back to do Quiddich commentary," said George, toying with his updated Extendable Ears. "Dunno why she invited Forge and I back. Maybe to finish our seventh-year and graduate."

"Oh, I heard about the Umbridge fiasco. Good one," complimented Wood. He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "Have any of you seen Katie?"

"Up front, with Spinnet and Johnson."

"I'm sure ickle Ollie will be delighted to see dear Katherine again," teased George, prompting Fred and Lee to make kissing sounds. Before they could move on to the more intimate sound effects, the compartment door slid open and a dark, skinny girl with dreadlocks entered.

"I've been looking everywhere for you three," she said, oblivious to her former Captain's presence. Hey eyes lingered on him for a while before she covered her mouth in surprise. "**OLIVER!"**

Before he could reply, his former Chaser launched herself at him.

"Glad to see some things never change," Wood choked out, winded by the unexpected assault.

"C'mon, we've been waiting for you lot in the front."

The twins and Lee Jordan took longer packing their scattered merchandise but Wood, who only had one carry on, cautiously followed her out.

To be frank, Wood finally knew what it feels to be like the Muggle boxer Muhammad Ali during his match with George Foreman in Zaire. Every Gryffindor compartment he walked by, he heard people chant, "Ollie! Ollie! Ollie!" the name of their champion. He couldn't help but feel flattered by the gesture.

"So what've you been up to?" Oliver asked, following the dark girl along the compartment.

"I've been studying at St. Mungo's Prep," said Angelina proudly. "And I've also been training to play pro Quiddich."

Oliver smiled. He'd expected as much. After all, she was as crazy about Quiddich as he was.

"Allie's been training as a Hit Wizard," she explained. "The Ministry stationed her to guard Hogwarts. You know, if it can happen to Dumbledore…"

"Yeah, I heard about that," muttered Wood, his eyes downcast.

"From what I've gathered, Harry didn't take it well," she continued, keeping her voice low. "Thought about dropping out and hunting You-Know-Who down. Of course, McGonagall got wind of it and stopped him."

"I haven't seen him in any of the compartments," said Wood, stepping over a pumpkin juice stain on the floor.

"No one has," whispered the dark Chaser. Pushing the carriage door ajar, she pushed her former Quiddich Captain into the compartment. "Here we are."

"Never been brilliant in any one subject," he heard Katie say, "Then again, the Weasley twins got accepted."

Alicia Spinnet, who was leafing through an article in _Witch Weekly_, looked up.

"Wood!" she shrieked, throwing the magazine in the air. The picture of Oliver Wood was emblazoned on the front, smiling smugly.

"How've you been," Katie asked, beaming. She stood up and threw her arms around her former Quiddich Captain.

"Great," he answered, his voice accentuated by the Scottish brogue he knew the girls couldn't resist. He smiled warmly at his youngest Chaser. If the Weasley twins and Lee Jordan had not made their noisy entrance, he would've noticed the blush forming on her cheeks.

"Blimey, that's the last time I let you show off the goods," heaved Fred, who looked as if he had run a marathon. Lee smiled impishly, hiding the untested invention behind him. "Wee toddlers from all direction. I swear, they're getting smaller and smaller…"

"Do we dare ask what you lot have done?" asked Alicia, raising her eyebrows.

"Nothing too dreadful," said George nonchalantly. "Weasley's Seismic Chuckhole, our latest invention."

"McGonagall's going to have a fit," Lee said happily. "Once she sees the first-years. Blimey, they scare easy."

They weren't kidding; the compartment behind was unnaturally silent. The look in the first-years' eyes spoke volumes though.

"Naturally, it was all in good fun," defended Lee, still smiling.

"Nobody got hurt," George said, gnawing on a Chocolate Frog.

"What about that chubby bloke? The one that was stuck in his seat and almost fell out?"

"Well, **ALMOST **nobody got hurt," corrected George. "He'd only a scratch on his knee, and we mended it perfectly."

"Though we couldn't vanish the deed he did in his knickers," chortled Lee. "Even if we knew how, we wouldn't have. That was a classic."

Fred and George doubled over in their seats, laughing.

"Really," groaned Wood, attempting to erase the mental picture but to no avail. "Was that really necessary?"

The rest of the day was spent listening to the jokester trio's presentation of their new line of merchandise. Who knew the three slackers were such great entrepreneurs? They seemed to be doing very well, and that was what mattered. By the time Wood tore his eyes away from their latest invention, the sun had already set and the countryside was barely visible.

Moments later, the Hogwarts Express came to a screeching halt.

"The carriages are gone!"

In place of the carriages that usually carried the students of Hogwarts across the lake was a very long bridge.

"A'right, c'mon, first-years over here!" came the booming voice of Rubeus Hagrid, the Care of Magical Creatures Professor and Hogwarts gamekeeper.

"Reckon it's safe to cross?" asked Angelina, who looked concerned. "I mean, there could be Death Eaters camped out in the darkness and we wouldn't even know!"

"It's safe," said Alicia, taking the first steps. "I don't sense any Dark magic."

"Well, just to be safe," Oliver pulled out his wand. "We should be on our guard. _Lumos_!"

The others agreed and crossed the bridge.

"Hurry up, yeh stragglin' – eh?" Hagrid, having sent a group of six-years towards the castle, bent down slightly as a cloaked wizard muttered something in his ear. "All right. Wood, Bell, Johnson, Spinnet, Jordan, Weasleys, get a move on!"

The seven graduates looked at each other, confused.

"I didn't know half-giants could see in the dark," said Lee, looking for confirmation.

"That's because they can't," Alicia muttered, glaring at the cloaked figure.

"C'mon, ye lot," said Hagrid gruffly, pushing them along. "All right, Professor?"

The figure nodded and, whipping out his wand, shot a scarlet beam that hovered above the castle before dispersing all around the grounds. After sending the charm, he collapsed on the grassy slopes the same time the makeshift bridge did.

"Rubeus, help me up, will you?"

"Yeh a'right?" asked Hagrid, holding out his hand.

"Yep," he answered, ushering the half-giant toward the castle. He stared at Oliver's group. "You should escort them inside to the safety of the Aurors. I have some last minute inspection to conduct."

Hagrid nodded. "A'right, you lot, let's get a move on."

On the way to the Great Hall, they were met with the entire Hogwarts population and several Aurors. The Great Hall oak doors were shut and everyone was waiting outside. There was an angry buzzing amongst the students as the Aurors patrolled the corridors.

"What's goin' on?" asked Alicia.

"What's the holdup?" Katie shouted above the noise.

"Blimey, I'm hungry!" Lee whined.

"Let us in!" Fred and George moaned dramatically.

The doors opened slightly and McGonagall slid out. "The Sorting ceremony will begin shortly. Now will you **PLEASE **be quiet?" She looked around and spotted Wood. "Mr. Wood, if you and your colleagues can restore some sense of order."

"No problem, Professor," Fred and George said simultaneously, pulling a dark, spherical object from their bag. Fred chucked it into the air where it exploded with a deafening '**BOOM!**', showering the mass with a liquidly purple substance.

"Detention for both of you!" shouted McGonagall after recovering from the initial shock. "I have never -"

Behind her, a quavering voice said, "Professor, it's ready."

"I'll deal with you two later," said McGonagall, pushing the double doors wide open. "Everyone take a seat."

Oliver entered the Great Hall with the rest of the goo-covered school behind him.

"Wonder what took so long?"

He looked at the staff's table; McGonagall was making her way to her usual chair right next to the Headmaster, and the cloaked wizard from before on the other side, but the Headmaster's chair was vacant. The sky was pitch black except for four bright lights above the House tables and the staff's table.

Looking around, Wood also noticed that almost all of Slytherin House was vacant.

"What's goin' on?" wondered the Scottish Keeper.


	3. The Revival Ceremony

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN HARRY POTTER**

**SECOND CHANCE**

**CHAPTER 3: THE REVIVAL CEREMONY**

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The chattering died down when the lights dimmed. McGonagall stood up and the Great Hall went dead silent. In the corner, Professors Flitwick and Sinistra were Hovering a pearl-white coffin toward the pedestal in the middle of the Great Hall.

"Please rise from your seats."

Slowly but surely, the sound of shifting chairs filled the silence as a thousand students rose from their seats.

"What're they playing at?" Oliver, nudging Bell, hissed. _'Wasn't that Dumbledore's coffin?'_

Bell shrugged, looking as confused any everyone else.

"Please give Professor Vance your full attention," said McGonagall sternly, with a look that was just daring anyone to disobey her. "I expect full participation. Professor Vance?"

The cloaked wizard appeared from the shadows and stood next to the Assistant Headmistress. He waved his wand promptly, and the casket that housed the deceased Headmaster flung open.

"Horace."

An old, corpulent man with a protruding stomach stepped onto the pedestal, sprinkling an ashen, crystallized powder into the coffin. He then retrieved two vials from his robes and set them next to Vance. Oliver straightened in his seat to get a better look. Vance, the wizard who Wood had seen earlier, was circling around the Dumbledore's casket with one of the vials. Within moments, he'd set down a seal around the coffin. In the cloak of darkness, Wood could hear him muttering what seemed to be a long and difficult incantation.

**"Aumento, alcoolici di vecchio" (A/N: Rise, Spirits of Olde)  
**

The sky shook with the oncoming of a rolling thunder, causing several first-years to scream.

**"Risparmi il savant di vecchio ordine" (A/N: Spare the Savant of the Olde Order)**

The four House tables started to shake on their own accord. The chairs hovered into the air but no one had performed the Hovering Charm.

**"Abbia questo scopo me" (A/N: Serve this purpose to me)**

Wood heard several people gasp. The coffin had illuminated a piercing, sky blue beam. Professor Vance stood above the coffin, holding his wand on his right hand.

**"E I'anima sará rimborsata!" (A/N: And the Blood will be repaid!)  
**

Wood instantly regretted sitting at the far end of the table when half of the Great Hall broke out in groans, stifled screams, and gags. But it was obvious what had triggered the response from the students when Wood heard Dean Thomas blurt out, "the bloke bloody **stabbed **himself!"

From his vantage point, the cloaked wizard was on his knees. His body had completely given away and his arm was arched in an angle that allowed blood to drip freely into the coffin. The seal he'd made on the stone floor had turned scarlet and glittered in a way that it looked like it was moving.

The ceiling had also changed. The evening sky was still as pitch dark as before, but the blue beams emanating from the pearl-white coffin illuminated the entire Great Hall with its eerie brightness. Then, as it were a grand finale, the blue light beams vanished all together, and the Great Hall was covered in darkness for a brief moment before the floating candles lit themselves.

As the lights in the Great Hall came back on, the entire Hogwarts mass stared, stunned. Even the Aurors were taken aback by the scene: the hooded wizard, who, in fact, was probably only a few years older than Wood himself, was being helped up by Dumbledore, who, according to hundreds of eyewitnesses and the Ministry of Magic, died last term. The young wizard tilted his head slightly before muttering something to Dumbledore, who smiled in return. He then gave Dumbledore another inscrutable look before allowing two Aurors to steer him back to his seat.

After that, every set of eyes was on Dumbledore.

"Welcome, students of old and new, to Hogwarts' first and hopefully last Revival Ceremony. I ask that you brave another ten minutes of this old man's rambling. Now, it is with great pleasure…"

"Isn't he supposed to be dead?" was the question on everyone's mind.

"…an old colleague of mine whom I can safely say I trust with my own life…"

Dumbledore held up his hand.

"…Has agreed to assume the position left vacant by Professor Snape, who is currently indisposed…"

The angry buzzing erupted amongst the three House tables. Marcus Flint, along with a handful of others at the Slytherin table, scowled and looked away.

"Potions?" Oliver asked.

Bell shook her head. "Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"…please give a warm, Hogwarts welcome to Professor Vance."

The Great Hall broke into applause. Dumbledore waited for silence before continuing.

"Seeing as most of you either were here last term or have read the Daily Prophet in the last three months, it goes without saying that Hogwarts has been unprepared for the threat of Lord Voldemort. For that, I take full responsibility. Starting this year, there will only be four-day courses every week," - cheers broke out - "Fridays and Saturdays will be used for Defense sessions taught either by Professor Vance or myself, Sundays will be spent at your own leisure. Tryouts for House Quiddich team will be held in September. Team Captains have been selected by Head of House. Graduates, please gather in front of the staff table after the feast. Without further ado, let the feast begin!"

"Wonder what he wants from us?" Oliver said, passing the bowl of mashed potatoes and peas to Lee Jordan.

Katie shrugged. "Sounds important."

"Never mind that," said Angelina Johnson, looking dreamily at the staff's table. "I wonder if there's a Mrs. Vance…"

"Aren't you with Fred?" asked Lee.

The black Chaser flushed. The aforementioned wizard had looked in her direction and smiled.

"Huh? Oh. Sure, spinach rolls."

She passed the plate to Katie, who gave her a quizzical look. Of the three original Gryffindor Chasers, Alicia Spinnet was the only one who ate in total silence. Having been her Quiddich Captain for five years, Wood knew she was deep in thought about something. She'd been like this before, mostly before important Quiddich matches or Potions exams.

Wood pondered this before the sound of Katie Bell's voice interrupted his thoughts.

"Hey, isn't that Harry?"

Oliver looked at the staff's table. There he was; his former Seeker who had earned him the long sought after Quiddich House Cup. From what he could see, the Boy-Who-Lived was discussing something with the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.

"He certainly has grown into his frame," Oliver said approvingly. It was true; his former Seeker had finally put on some meat to his skinny frame. "Hey, Potter!"

The Boy-Who-Lived held up his hand and continued his conversation with Vance, who grinned slightly and muttered something to Harry while giving Oliver a pointed look. Oliver was no expert of lip reading, but he could tell Professor Vance was praising Harry for something.

Harry trotted over Oliver's group and squeezed in between Alicia and Angelina.

"Thank Merlin, I'm starving!" Harry exclaimed, looking at the food with wolfish enthusiasm.

"How've you been, Potter? We didn't see you during the Ceremony."

"I was running an errand for Vance. And I caught the very last part of it."

"I didn't know Revival Rituals existed," Oliver continued, toying with his goulash.

"They don't," Alicia said suddenly, looking up from her plate. "At least, according to the Ministry's understanding."

**"FOOD**!"

Ron dove in between Parvati Patil and Lee Jordan, grabbing everything in sight. Moments later, Hermione Granger took the seat across from Ron, an area deemed 'the safe zone'. Unfortunately for Wood and Harry, they were smack dab in the front seats of the 'splash zone'.

"Where were you two?" Oliver asked, wiping gravy off of his face.

"Patrolling the first-year line," Hermione said with a dignified air.

"Vance's orders," Ron added in between bites. "Really powerful wizard, according to Bill. The scars he got from Fenrir Greyback last year? Fixed them up in a jiff."

"Well, he seems _competent_," Hermione admitted, though the tone she was using hinted that she had her suspicions.

"Come off it," said Harry, popping a piece of steak in his mouth. "We've known him the entire summer. He's all right."

"You thought the Half Blood Prince was all right," Hermione retorted, working on her cream soup.

Harry froze.

Ron, for the first time in the conversation, stopped eating in mid bite.

"What're they talkin' bout?" Oliver asked, watching the trio yell at one another about some Half Blood Prince.

"He turned out all right in the end, didn't he?" Hermione yelled, taking on both of them.

"Oh, that's rich! You're defending him?"

The argument continued for most of the meal. An hour later, Dumbledore stood up from his chair and was met with immediate silence.

"Now that you have eaten to your heart's content" – at this, all the dishes vanished from the tables – "off to bed! Rest your young minds, for tomorrow they will be punished and overtaxed."

Oliver and his former Quiddich team (excluding Harry) marched to the front of the staff's table where they were joined by familiar faces. Dumbledore had already left, but Vance was there waiting for them to settle down.

"A bigger group that I'm used to," he said to himself, counting the heads. "By a show of hands, who here has achieved over seven OWLs?"

The majority of the group raised their hands; Wood, Flint, and Davis were not among them.

"Okay, not a total lost cause," Vance joked, ignoring the looks several of the female group were giving him. "And who here has taken and passed with Exceeding Expectation in N.E.W.T. Charms?"

A little over half.

"N.E.W.T. Transfiguration?"

Two out of five.

"N.E.W.T. Defense Against the Dark Arts?"

Next to nil.

"Ah," he breathed, scanning down his clipboard at the margin labeled _'Alicia Spinnet'_. "A Ministry Hit Wizard. Witch, I mean." Ignoring the look on the blonde witch's face, he continued to peruse the list.

"Um, Professor…?"

"Oh, yes, that is all. You may leave," he said offhandedly, still studying the clipboard.

The crowd dispersed in different directions. Oliver was at the Great Hall's entrance when he noticed Alicia was still glaring at Professor Vance.

What was that about?


End file.
